


More Than He Could Chew

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-26
Updated: 2006-02-26
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:59:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8062792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Commander Tucker has fun baiting T'Pol not realising that he is going to pay for it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

"Vulcans do not experience fear, or so they have convinced the rest of the universe." The Chief Engineer quoted with a wry smile feeling more than a mite satisfied with himself.

Malcolm Reed snorted softly. "Did T'Pol really say that?"

"As I live an' breathe Malcolm, cross my heart an' hope t'die."

They were in the mess hall ruminating over the pros and cons of the latest offering from Movie Night. It was late and they had the place to themselves. The Armoury Officer pulled a face as he leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out. It wasn't often that the two of them got a chance to just kick back and relax any more. "Well Vulcan or not she looked frightened to me."

Trip chuckled. "Who would'a guessed it? T'Pol may be no great lover of children but I swear I'll never forget the look on her face. A look as close to abject terror as I've ever seen!"

Amused, Malcolm could not stop his lips twisting up in a smile. "Who chose 'Children of the Damned' anyway?"

Trip couldn't quite pull off the innocent look. Lt Reed eyed him suspiciously.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"I don't know how you can say that, Malcolm Reed."

"Hmm, try three years of knowing you, Mr Tucker." He paused and sipped his tea for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. "She isn't going to let you get away with this, you do know that don't you?"

Trip grinned and raised his mug in a salute to his friend. "I'm countin' on it."

Malcolm blinked then laughed. "Sometimes Commander, I'm sure you must have a death wish."

***

Death wish. Right. Because nothing was as much fun as being trapped on a hostile planet with a pissed off Vulcan. Funny how that possibility had never occurred to him. He was just glad Malcolm couldn't see him now. As it was he'd be eating crow pie for months. Always supposing they ever got off this bad ass moon in the first place. With the catalogue of catastrophes and missteps that had followed that little set-up known as Movie Night - in what Malcolm called 'Baiting the Vulcan' - the Children of the Damned were having a better time of it than he was. Inwardly he groaned, Would he never learn?

If he hated the desert it was true to say that T'Pol hated swamps. The humidity as bleak and uncomfortable to her as the unremmitting harsh rays of a Vulcan sun would be to him. He shoved memories of Princess Kaitama to the back of his mind and squinted across the greensward that opened out in front of him at the other side of the boggy swamp. The place stank as if several thousand awful things had died in the water and were busy fermenting into a plethora of unspeakable germs any one of which could inflict on them both a long, lingering and painful death. *Cheer yourself up Tucker why don't ya?*

He turned his head and felt his heart go out to his Vulcan companion, her blank face somehow imbuing her abject misery with a poignancy that made him regret his constant barrage of baiting quips. He liked her perky and feisty not this silent solemn husk following dejectedly in his wake. No sparring. No flat veiled sarcasm masquerading as logic. No spark of humour glinting in those deep dark eyes. It troubled him more than he could say. Biting his bottom lip he wished he could read her mind, wished he could take back every mean word he had ever said to her. Anything to bring back the vibrant spark he relied on to give his own life meaning. An old song scrolled unbidden through his mind:

"What are you doing the rest of your life  
North and South and East and West of your life?  
I have only one request of your life  
That you spend it all with me...

I want to see your face in every kind of light  
In fields of dawn and forests of the night  
And when you stand before the candles on the cake  
Oh let me be the one to hear the silent wish you make..."

'What Are You Doing The Rest Of Your Life' - sung by Johnny Mathis

"T'Pol?"

Her head rose but barely, the merest trace of acknowledgement. Huh. Still annoyed at him. Didn't that just figure?

"We need to make it to that far bank, looks more solid an' less waterlogged."

They were up to their waists in the foul dank water. Several somethings slid passed them, brushing against their clinging uniforms making Trip shudder with revulsion. He glanced sideways at T'Pol and saw her lips twist with dark dislike. He suspected a thousand nasal inhibitors would not be able to dull the awful reek of the place. Nothing disturbed the eerie silence of the place. Nothing. Not the sound of a bird or single insect. As if everything on the planet was stagnant like the water they were wading through with dragging limbs. Trip had an image of everything rotting around him, slimey and hideous looking slugs and bugs worming their way through decaying flesh, the air befouled with the byproduct of decomposition. It made him want to retch if only because his visual and olfactory senses supported that dire vision as a distinct future possibility.

"T'Pol?"

Her eyes stared at him dully. Not a flicker of interest. He was getting pretty sick of talking to himself. Anger beginning to rise in him as they reached the far bank. He hauled himself out with difficulty, the sides of the bank wet, crumbly and covered in something slimey to the touch that made him think of something Dr Phlox might conjure up to add to his bizarre medical treatments. He shuddered, turned and reached down to help T'Pol. The Vulcan took his hand in silence and levered herself out, a brief look of relief on her face. Then it was back to the stony silence, her look accusing him silently without saying a single word.

"Look, I'm sorry okay? I should'a told ya about the movie."

Her glare deepened. He sighed. A fitful breeze began to send icy fingers of cold through his wet clothing. Wet hair plastered to his head, shivering as the wind got up. T'Pol had to be just as cold as he was but being such a stoic Vulcan she hid behind her superiority and just stared at him. All the warmth of an ice cube. Malcolm had said she would make him suffer and he hadn't been kidding. Nothing was worth this.

"We need to find shelter."

Just then the God of Murphy's Law went into operation and the Heavens opened. Rain lashed down on them like stair rods. Trip felt a surge of pleasure and threw back his head, arms spread wide letting the rain wash away the slime and stink of the swamp. He began to feel better, not a lot, but enough to see that things might not be as bad as they could be. He opened his eyes and looked at T'Pol. She had a strange expression on her face, watching him intently. It was the most interest she had shown in him since Movie Night. Trip grinned.

"Just what we need to wash that filth off us, darlin'."

Her eyes glittered. He paused and looked harder at her, trying to fathom out what she was thinking. Intrigued he took a step towards her but just as he opened his mouth to speak she took a neat sideways step, caught hold of his outstretched arm and propelled him behind her. Trip yelled, his feet sliding on the wet bank searching in vain for traction. "Hey! What do ya think you're doin'?"

The words left his mouth a fraction of a second before her intent hit him in the face with all the force and smell of a septic tank. The murky, evil stink of the swamp closed in over his head and clung to him as he sank beneath the water. It took a lot of effort to break the surface enough to breathe with everything in the swamp pulling at him and weighing him down. He was tired. On the verge of losing what little patience he had left when he caught the look in T'Pol eyes. She was laughing at him!

"Ha, ha, very funny! Now help me outta this swamp."

But even as he reached out to her T'Pol was already turning away from him.

"Hey? Where ya goin'?"

She did not pause or look back. With a look of total disbelief on his face Trip watched T'Pol walk away leaving him shivering and shuddering in the swamp, the rain pouring down and quickly making it hard for him to see her.

"T'Pol?"

No reply. Trip waded closer to the bank but it was at least a foot higher than the water and every time he tried to climb out he slid back in, falling back into the slime and bobbing under. He coughed, choked and spat out a mouthful of muck. He felt sick and chilled, a stir of trepidation settling in his gut. What if T'Pol stayed mad and left him here?

"T'Pol? Give me a hand, this isn't funny."

Nothing. If anything the rain was heavier, the wind rising and beginning to howl around his ears until it rose in pitch and vehemence like some demented banshee. He felt his heart sink. She was never going to forgive him. He shut his mouth and stopped shouting, his spirits dropping so low he thought he would never find anything to smile about again. He could not remember the last time he had felt this miserable.

Trip had no idea how long he was in the water. His body had gone numb a long time ago and he was so cold now he had stopped shivering. On top of that he was hungry, thirsty and weary from the tip of his head to his toes. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something good. Something happy. Pictured himself back in the mess hall, a huge piece of pecan pie sitting on a plate with his name on it. He tried to imagine the taste but all he could take in was the foulness of the air, the dank depressing air stinging and filling his nostrils with its' awful clinging odour. The smell of decay so strong it was hard to think of anything else. He thought about his mama's pan fried catfish, a memory of the first time T'Pol had eaten spaghetti shoving that memory from his mind and bringing the first smile tugging at his lips. She had sure got in one hell of a mess with that pasta. Took her ages to get the hang of twirling the piped strands around her fork so she could lift enough of it to her mouth to eat. The vegetarian version of Bolognese sauce had splashed across her shocked face, the tomato base flicking down the front of her uniform and reducing Trip to a helpless heap of laughter. 

He had no idea how much later it was when T'Pol finally took pity on him and returned to get him out. He could not thank her or even rail at her for leaving him in the water for so long. His mouth wouldn't work and it was hard to keep his eyes open. He missed the swift look of concern in her eyes. By the time he was able to open them again she had half dragged and half carried him to what looked like the foot of a mountain. Where the rocky ground began there was something that looked like caves. Trip blinked, barely noticing that the rain had stopped or that T'Pol had somehow managed to light a fire. What he did notice was that for the first time in three days T'Pol spoke to him. He closed his eyes the better to concentrate on the sound of her voice. Too numb to realise that she was peeling off his wet clothing.

"Commander, you need to get out of your uniform..."

"Anythin' ya say, T'Pol." He slurred in response.

T'Pol frowned. The Commander's eyes were still closed and despite enjoying her revenge she did not like the look of him. His face was too pale and pasty, he was so very cold and his responses were not good. She was worried about him. Silently berating herself for leaving him so long in the water but he had provoked her and it was only right the Human learn the error of his ways. A short sharp lesson was best. It was the Vulcan way. She stared down at him, pulling him closer to the fire as she removed the last of his wet clothing. Carefully she spread the clothing out over some rocks on the other side of the fire. They at least had shelter in the cave and just being out of the biting wind made it feel much warmer.

He was dreaming. Sure of it. He could feel the warmth on his skin, something trailing over him and sending delicious little shivers through his body. He moaned and turned onto his back, the sensation now trailing across his chest, teasing and brushing back and forth then sliding down his body. It was definitely getting warmer now. Something sparked in his back brain and his eyes flew open, a groan leaking out of shocked lips as agile hands closed over him and began to stroke and caress him.

Trip stared, mouth dropping open. He blinked then groaned again, getting so hard he could drill through solid rock. "T... T'Pol? W.... what're ya doin'?"

The Vulcan continued to stroke him, slow even movements that had him gasping and longing to urge her to increase the pace while another part of his brain wanted to know how they had come to this. "You were cold, had lost too much body heat." She said in a calm flat voice.

His mind was definitely not firing on all cylinders. He closed his eyes. T'Pol was not running her hands over him, touching him with the kind of intimacy red blooded males dreamt about. Nor was her hand stroking him so expertly, the fingers flexing and massaging him while riding up and down his foreskin. The breath catching between his teeth as another groan came up from his gut and his body trembled. His eyes sprung open again, finding her looking at him as innocently as if they were simply engaged in neuro pressure. "Um, T'Pol, if you keep doin' that I'm not gonna be able to control myself..."

"I have control enough for both of us, Commander."

He stared. Dumbstruck. Before he could marshall his wits about him she caught him on the upstroke and rubbed her thumb across his slit. Already excited by the teasing hand his head dropped back on the ground and he moaned, hips jerking, his mind no longer able to think of anything but the pleasure ripping through his body. "Oh God, T'Pol..." He moaned.

Then she was astride him, her hand pumping him as his eyes rolled back in his head, breathing truncated in a staccato of shuddering breaths. He opened his mouth to speak but no words would come out then her lips were on his, red fire errupted behind his lids. He was so close, hanging over the edge, when her hand slowed. He groaned with agony at the loss but before he could beg T'Pol rearranged herself and slowly mounted him, sliding him into her hot body. Tight walls compressing round him as firm interior muscles began to slowly ride up and down him in a rythym that was driving him crazy.

He wasn't sure if he passed out while he was coming or just before. The intensity of orgasm blanking everything else from his mind. He awoke groggy and confused, still naked but now with a warm blanket of Vulcan draped over him. Trip thought it had all been a dream. A beautiful delicious dream. He looked at her, his eyes softening as he beheld T'Pol completely relaxed in slumber. He reached out and gently traced her ear, loving the little murmurs she made at his touch. Encouraged he continued, exploring her gently, not wanting to wake her but as he did so he felt himself getting more and more turned on. Just as he lifted his head to brush a kiss to her lips her eyes opened.

Trip grinned lazily. "Hello, darlin'."

Her look was unfathomable. "What are you doing?"

He smiled and framed her face in his hands. "What does it look like?"

The stiff detached Vulcan was back. She eased off him, her look more of a glare. Puzzled he eased himself up on his hands noticing for the first time that he was fully dressed as was she. He blinked. What the...? "T'Pol, what's goin' on?"

"You fell in the swamp and it took me over an hour to get you out. You were frozen."

"I thought I was naked."

"It was necessary to remove your clothing to dry your uniform."

"You took my clothes off?"

She tilted her head and regarded him. "You were delirious, Commander."

He flushed, too embarrassed to confess what he thought they had been doing. "That doesn't explain ya lyin' on top of me, T'Pol."

"You are mistaken, Commander. I was checking your temperature and pulse."

He stared at her. Well, that was a new one. "Um, okay. So we never... ?"

She watched his expression change from query to discomfort when she failed to answer or complete his sentence. Her look was blank. Had it been a dream? A beautiful lust-filled dream? He watched her move towards the fire and pick up something.

"You must eat."

He looked at her in surprise as if she had just turned into Egon Ronay. "Ya found food?"

"Open your mouth, Commander."

He smiled. The idea of T'Pol feeding him sparking off all sorts of fantasies in his head. That meant she really did like him, right? The smile turned to a smug little grin. "Ya can feed me anythin' ya like, darlin'."

An elegant eyebrow slowly rose and Trip opened his mouth wide. He could not see what was in her hand but trusted her. Wondered what on earth she had found worth eating on this miserable planet. Her hand touched his mouth gently indicating he should open his mouth a little wider. His eyes sparkled and he did as instructed, her other hand quickly coming up to deposit something on his tongue then close his mouth. He was still smiling as the something in his mouth began to wriggle and slide across his tongue. A look of horror came over his face. T'Pol just looked at him, no emotion mirrored in her eyes. She looked as if she were conducting a damn experiment. Trip could feel himself wanting to throw up. Expel the foreign body in his mouth. He pushed himself away from her, turned his head and spat. Whatever was in his mouth clung to his tongue like sticky tape. Sticky slimey wriggling tape. With a sucking mouth on it.

He retched and retched until he thought the lining of his stomach would come up. T'Pol offered him water, he threw it back at her. So damn angry and upset that she would do a thing like that. It was shortly after that shuttlepod 2 made a neat and perfect landing no more than fifty yards from their cave. Trip couldn't wait to get off the damn planet. He would not have minded if he never saw a Vulcan again.

***

He was in the mess hall. It was late. Almost 3am. Everybody else was either in bed or working the night shift, not that there was any day or night in space but trying to emulate earth standard was a comfort. Malcolm Reed watched his friend polish a bowl of Rocky Road ice cream with slow deliberation, each spoonful carefully etched from the bowl as if the Commander was making sure there was nothing else in it.

"I can't believe it!" He exclaimed.

Trip gave him a sour look. "Believe it. I'm tellin' ya Malcolm she put something slimey and alien in my mouth an' ya know how I feel about bugs!"

Lt Reed was laughing, it was too good to be true. Trip had related everything that had happened since their last Movie Night and though he had predicted T'Pol would get her own back he had not expected something this spectacular. His opinion of their Vulcan friend rose immeasurably. He was most impressed. His friend did not share his enthusiasm.

"It's not funny, Malcolm. I could'a died!"

Malcolm wiped tears from his eyes. "Oh Trip, I can't wait to hear what katy did next!"

Trip scowled. "Who's Katy?"

"Sorry, there were a series of children's books around a central character called Katy who was always getting into scrapes and mischief. One of the books was called 'What Katy Did Next'. My sister Maddy was potty on them, read them over and over from cover to cover. T'Pol reminds me of Katy."

"Well, I'm glad someone's havin' fun." Said Trip sourly. He paused as he finished the last of his ice cream. 

"It's Movie Night tomorrow, are you going to ask T'Pol to go with you?"

"What's on?"

Malcolm gave a slow grin. "Mars Attacks!"

Commander Tucker raised his eyebrows then the pair of them laughed. For a little while the laughter and the bon homie actually took away the memory and foul taste in Trips' mouth. Served him right for biting off more than he could chew. Still. Wouldn't be sporting if he left it at that. T'Pol had won this round, no contest. He smiled to himself. He would get T'Pol back. Best out of three!


End file.
